


It's a Hell of a Day at Sea

by onepieceofharry



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Overboard AU, dub con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepieceofharry/pseuds/onepieceofharry
Summary: Overboard AU. When spoiled rich husband-to-be Tony Stark falls off his yacht he ends up washing up on shore with no recollection of who he is.Struggling single father Steve Rogers sees the man who looked down on him, assaulted him, and stole from him on the news with the story and does the mature thing. Lie to the hospital staff that Tony is his husband and takes him home to work off the seven hundred dollar dept he owes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the movie recently and yikes! Major dub con but I loved the concept and just love the idea of rich guy Tony being a farmhand/housewife kinda deal. I tone down the dub con than what the movie had but it still exists and some of it is addressed and some of it isn't. So just a fair warning if you can't stomach it. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely complicated exposition is extremely complicated but necessary to get to the story which I love and am so excited to write

The cloying scent of expensive cologne hadn’t left the entire three days Steve worked on the luxury yacht with _la bella maria de mi amor_ painted on the side. The ship was bigger than his house with a massive crew that all seemed to serve four wealthy individuals on, what Steve could only hope, was a vacation. Lord knows Steve had enough resentment that anyone would spend this kind of money at all, and if this was their usual life-style he isn’t sure he could look his employer in the eyes.

Steve had been hired to remodel this guy’s closet, all he needed to do was finish and he could finally leave the lavish ship and the horrible, awful people who lived on it. Steve had set up camp in the sitting area of the master bedroom, the closet being too small to safely cut the wood to proportion, but there was one huge draw back to the location; the windows that lead right out to the main deck where his employers spent their days.

_Jarvis! I need the blue USB. Find it for me._

_Where did you get this cod? Please tell me you didn’t actually take it straight from the ocean._

_What the hell is this fabric? It’s so coarse there’s no way we would have furnished the furniture with this. We’ll have to replace it after we leave this hick town.”_

The whining was getting on his last frayed nerve, the entitlement seeming to ooze off these people like the overpriced scents off the candles he found in literally every room. What’s worse is the one who seemed the worst of them all, Tony something, periodically swept in to check on his progress, making little tutting sounds and feeling the wood with a raised eyebrow. It was infuriating. Especially considering the amount of care Steve put into the craft. The design of the rotating closet may have been something the company had done before, but the craftmentship was all Steve’s. And it was art. It had taken long hours of enduring the horrible treatment from the aristocrats onboard for him to finish the project but it was finally done and every inch of the new closet was carved and sanded to perfection. All he had to do was polish the wood and clean up and that would be a job done.

Except that the job was apparently not good enough.

“I asked for cedar!” The indignant voice of Tony Stark yelled in his face.

Steve smiled blandly at his employer. “I assure you sir, you didn’t specify. I can redo the entire thing in the new wood but it would more than double your estimate.”

Stark sneered, turning away to rummage through the clothes folded on the chaise. Steve wasn’t about to interrupt him from finding something to wear considering the man was in nothing but a fucking speedo. Steve hesitates to even call it a bathing suit, a pair of red leather panties would be more accurate. And, okay _maybe_ Steve spent just a tad too long staring at the mans behind and _maybe_ he noticed the cute little heart shaped birthmark high up on his left cheek but that really didn’t change his opinion on his personality. It just meant it had been a while since Steve had gone on a date. God, Bucky was right. He needed to get laid.

“What professional doesn’t know that oak will attract moths?” Stark said as he re-emerged with- was that a woman’s dressing gown?

“The kind that understands you won’t have a big moth problem on the pacific ocean.”

The man sneered again, tying up his robe in a frankly overdramatic fashion. “Well I’m not paying for it.” With that he stormed out of the bedroom headed back upstairs.

Steve was momentarily shocked before grabbing his tool box and scrambling after the man.

“This job cost me seven hundred dollars including materials and you are going to pay every cent.”

The conviction of his words curled Tony’s lips. Jeez is that the only expression the man can make? A sneer? This fucking _prick._

“Who the hell do you think you are? You know you didn’t ask for cedar. You hired me to do a job and the job is done. Now pay me.”

“The job was not done to my specifications! I asked specifically-”

“No you didn’t you rich asshole!” Steve yelled, using his longer stride to outpace the man and get directly in his face.

It was gratifying to see the man skitter backwards a few steps obviously uncomfortable with the close proximity. The gratification quickly left when he opened his mouth. “I hired you to do a job which you did not complete. Either leave now or I will call the police.”

Steve grit his teeth at the threat. Getting the law involved is not at all what he wanted. He’d had a few run-ins with them in the past when he would face off against bullies and they were always itching for an excuse to bring him in. But goddamnit he didn’t regret fighting those bullies and the man in front of him trying to push him around and take his work was acting like a bully.

“You know what your problem is?” Steve asked, crowding Stark closer to the railing of the boat, “Your life is so goddamn boring and empty you have to invent things to get upset about.”

Stark’s eyes blazed and he opened his mouth to retort but Steve didn’t give him the chance. “It’s so full material bullshit that any chance to stir the pot you take because it adds just a bit of excitement to your dull pathetic life.”

Now Stark was moving along the edges of the yacht, Steve following him with every step, giving him the inconvenient truth. “You make people upset with you because seeing an honest emotion that isn’t boredom is so refreshing to your mundane life that you-”

Steve cut himself off as Stark quickly got into a better position and shoved him over the side of the boat.

***

Sopping wet, Steve stormed in to his little country shack alone and pissed off. He was now out seven hundred dollars and all the tools he failed to rescue at the bottom of the bay. His clothes were soaked but salvageable, the real issue being his wallet and the crumpled bills he’d stuffed inside. He hadn’t lost the money but he’d yet to look inside and see if all it would take was a hairdryer to save the bills or if they were a dissolved congealed mess. Either was possible and that would be another hundred easily.

He was supposed to go grocery shopping today.

Unbidden his eyes pricked with tears and he took a deep breath to calm down. It was just a bit much all at once. Just yesterday Harley and Peter’s teacher had accosted him about behavioral problems that Steve had no idea was going on and now he couldn’t even afford food _fuck._ He lost almost a grand just because some rich asshole wasn’t fucking clear about what he wanted and decided to blame for him. The guy probably wipes his ass with hundred dollar bills.

Steve sniffed and curled his lip just a little before backtracking out of the house onto the wrap around porch and shucking off his wet shirt, leaving a small puddle of water he had to remember to clean up before someone sliped on it.

“Hey Steve, do you have-what the fuck happened to you?”

Startled at the voice, Steve spun around to face his best friend. Bucky only needed one look to get something was wrong.

“Hey, what happened?” Bucky said soflty, approaching Steve casually and wrapping his arms around him.

Steve sighed and shook his head.

“Job fell through.”

Bucky leaned back and raised his eyebrow, before searching the cluttered porch for a towel.

“You’ve had that happen before Steve.”

Steve pressed his lips together slightly embarrassed by the attention.

“Well, this one fell through after the work was done. And the customer pushed me off the side of their yacht. It’s been a fun day.”

For effect Steve threw his soaking wallet on the wood panel with a wet splat. Bucky looked torn between concern and anger, twisting the towel between clenched fists.

Eventually settling on concerned he passed over the towel and leaned casually against the banister.

“So what’s the name of the customer?”

Steve rolled his eyes and scrubbed at his hair. Apparently there was some need for revenge lurking inside his friend.

“Tony Stark.” Apparently there was some desire for revenge lurking inside Steve too. “But it doesn’t matter, they left as soon as I was thrown overboard.”

Bucky tutted and then jumped like something had just occurred to him. “Tony Stark? Any relation to Stark Industries?”

Steve paused before nodding. “I’m pretty sure. He’s engaged to Justin Hammer and I’m pretty sure Howard Stark had a kid. Everything was pretty high tech too.”

Bucky smiled wryly before ruffling Steve’s hair. “Makes sense. A guy born with the Stark fortune and engaged to a prick like Justin Hammer is definitely a major dick. He’s probably only marrying Hammer to keep living like a king. Don’t take it personally.”

Steve laughed weakly. “It’s kind of hard not to take it personally when you don’t have enough money for groceries because of him.”

Immediately Bucky’s tone changed, grabbing Steve’s shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. Steve flushed and looked away, knowing exactly what Bucky was about to offer and knowing that he couldn’t refuse.

“Do you need to borrow some money Steve? You know I have some saved up.”

Steve exhaled shakily. Fuck this day.

“Just for some food Buck. We’re on our last can of beans and the kids need something green.”

Bucky nodded seriously, sensing Steve’s unease and backing off. He busied himself with laying out the towel to dry but was drawn back at Steve’s uncomfortable cough.

“I lost some of my tools when I was thrown over the edge.”

Bucky smiled. “You can borrow some of mine.” He said and Steve visibly relaxed. “Now let’s get you some clean clothes and see what frozen dinners we can feed your kids for the next week.”

Steve grinned as Bucky made his way towards the door.

“Wait, Bucky-”

“No no I won’t hear it Steve! You know you cook for shit and if you want those boys to eat anything that doesn’t taste like the back end of a-HA!” Bucky screamed as he slipped on the puddle of water he’d left just moments earlier.

Steve personally thought it was karmic justice. His cooking was swell.

***

Talking Justin out of sex for the millionth time was tedious and boring but soon his fiancé subsided into watching shitty procedural cop shows and leaving Tony alone with his thoughts, though that wasn’t much better. 

_You know what your problem is? Your life is so goddamn boring and empty you have to invent things to get upset about._

What a fucking asshole. Who says that kind of thing to a complete stranger? Who does he think he is? 

Tony sighed, stretching his arm out for his tablet only to meet nothing but smooth wood. Irritably glanced at his bedside table before whining low in his throat.

“Justin? I left my tablet upstairs. Go get it for me.”

Justin growled and ignored him, like he always did. Tony whined but dragged himself out of bed regardless, putting on his shoes and robe strategically so he would be in the way of the TV. Justin whispered something uncharitable under his breath when Tony finally left and Tony rolled his eyes. Their passive-aggressiveness was a staple of their relationship and Tony was certain when they were finally married it would only increase. He smiled wryly as he made his way to the helm of the boat. Justin may not be perfect but Obie certainly thought he was, and he definitely was a great connection, though Tony personally thought the company didn’t need him.

The tablet was on the end table built into the very helm of the boat but it was pitch black, everyone having gone to bed save the staff who did their work at this time. Tony cursed his lack of forethought but felt along the railing on his journey to the helm. It was taking quite a lot longer than he thought it would to reach the helm and despite him he felt a thrill of fear. Maybe he should just turn back now and come back with a flashlight. It would certainly be safer but it would also be a lot longer considering Tony had no idea where a flashlight might be.

_Because you’ve never had to do anything yourself in your entire life._

Tony ground his teeth and took his next step just a little more aggressively, as if he was trying to prove he could at least do one thing. Ironically that step was the last he took, as the boat rocked on its course and Tony swayed, struggling futilely to catch his balance before toppling over the edge.

***

_We have some excitement down here at the Mercy General Hospital. It seems a mystery man has washed up on the shore this morning and doctors say he has complete and total amnesia-_

“Buck! Buck come look at the TV!”

Bucky zipped his bowling ball away and jogged over to where Steve was frantically gesturing at the television screen where they were showing a candid photo of a disheveled young man.

“That’s him! That’s Tony Stark!”

Bucky curled his lip instinctually.

_John Doe already had one visitor today but unfortunately he wasn’t recognized. His identity still remains a mystery as-_

The image shifts to a clip of a man in a suit walking out of the hospital, practically skipping in the sunshine.

“What a bastard.”

Bucky looked questioningly at the Steve, who refused to look away from the screen.

“That’s Hammer. That’s his fiancé. And he just _left_ him there.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the tone in Steve’s voice. 

“You mean he left the guy that _stole_ from you and _assaulted_ you? How horrible.”

Steve opened his mouth before closing it sharply. He took a second to consider Bucky’s words before the self-righteousness melted into resentment.

“He deserves it.”

Bucky grinned sharply, an idea forming in his head.

“Well I mean, those hospitals can be a pretty bad place.”

Steve looked away only to narrow his eyes at his friend. 

“And he has no idea who he is.”

“What are you getting at Buck.”

Bucky shrugged, clapping Steve on the back. “All I’m saying is this guy fucked you over Stevie. And now he doesn't remember who he is. Amnesia's a tricky bitch Steve, and most people never remember. He gets everything coming to him. And maybe _you_ could be the thing coming to him.”

Steve scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and motioned for Bucky to continue.

“I’m saying _you_ could take him home. Have him work off the debt he owes you.”

A snort came from his friend before he finally moved away from the television to retrieve his bowling ball from the queue.

“Oh yeah? And how would he work off that debt hunh?”

“As a housewife.”

“You might not want your lovely wife to hear that kind of talk.”

Unconsciously Bucky scanned the room for the telltale red of his wife’s hair. Oh yeah, that would be _bad._

“Househusband then. House-spouse. Whatever. Point is you take the guy home, which is a much better place than our underfunded local hospital I might add, and he washes a few dishes, cooks a few meals, cleans the house. In a couple weeks we send him back to Stark Industries free of charge. No harm no fowl.”

“You don’t think there’s harm in kidnapping someone?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “The way they’ll see it is that we took him in for altruistic purposes and because he bears a striking resemblance to your own missing husband or whatever. _We_ are the guys that returned him safe and sound. They won’t touch us Steve honest. Hell, they might even give us a reward.”

Steve laughed. “We make this guy work for us and get a reward? What world do you live in?”

“No no the guy works for _you_ and I guarantee you Steve being your husband would be a hell of a lot better than rotting in that hospital. We already know no one is going to claim him. You would basically be saving him. And what’s wrong with a bit of fair compensation?”

Steve chuckled a bit but seemed to actually consider it.

“It’s like altruism if you actually think about it. You’re doing that guy a favour even though that rich asshole doesn’t deserve it. And seriously Steve if you consider all the-“

“Okay! Buck. Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Bucky smirked.

***

Stark was poised delicately on the plastic hospital chair, everything about him screaming elegance save for the sour look on his face.

"This is my husband?"

The hospital was a bit run-down just like Bucky had said, the paint peeling off the dry wall and the bed springs a bit rusty. The particular area he’d been lead to had a few residents shuffling about, all fairly elderly either watching tv or playing cards. There was one memorable man who seemed to be eating checker pieces but Tony Stark had contempt for all of them.

Steve stepped forward and deliberately tempered his voice soft and concerned. "Of course honey. Don't you remember me?" 

Steve pitched his voice even lower at the question, trying to sound distressed which prompted the doctor to put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't take it personally Mr. Rogers. As we said, there is total memory loss. He doesn't even remember his own name."

Steve gasped and whipped around to stare at Stark. "Your name is Tony sweetheart. Tony Rogers." 

Steve had thought long and hard about changing the name but ultimately he had cursed the name "tony" so often in his head he was guaranteed to mess up. 

Stark sneered before repeating the name to himself. "Tony." 

The doctors watched him anxiously, hoping for any recollection to cross his face.

"Tony..." He repeated again before anger dotted his cheeks again. "No no that isn't right! That is not my name!" 

The nurses crowded closer, trying the calm the hysteria before it started. To himself Steve thought they would have an easier time asking the world to turn on its axis.

"No no no I am calm! I am absolutely certain my name isn't Tony and I am absolutely certain that that man is not my husband! You can't make me go with him. I won't allow it!"

The doctor strained a smile at his patient, but ultimately conceded the point. 

"We can't just give him to you without some sort of proof. Do you have any identification?"

Steve grimaced and shook his head. "We lost a lot in the move and his wallet was with him when he got lost."

The doctor cringed, checking his watch in worry before Steve assuaged his concerns.

"Well, there is one thing." Steve said slowly. "He does have a very distinct birthmark high on his left buttcheek. Heart shaped. Can't miss it."

The nurses eagerly looked between Tony and Steve, just a bit smitten with the situation. Tony pressed his lips together before rising pointedly and travelling over to the stand-up television set for some privacy. He lowered the cheap slacks he was given and inspected his behind. 

"So?" Came the doctor. "Do we have a winner?"

Shocked, Tony rapidly looked between the doctor and Steve before narrowing his eyes and nodding. 

Steve grinned wide, opened his arms, and said the worst thing he could think of. 

"Come to daddy."

***

The hospital staff had eagerly relinquished his fake husband with just a few signed papers Steve had sheepishly lied on. They gave him the one thing they had recovered sealed in a plastic bag; the pair of red panties he’d been wearing when he pushed him overboard which he had promptly shoved in the glovebox to forget about. They let Tony take the hospital garb he’d been wearing and off they went, in Steve’s old pick-up that Tony had obviously wanted to comment on but didn’t. The drive home was long, the hospital was right near the edge of the ocean whereas Steve lived in the neighboring forest, but eventually they pulled in to the dirt road.

There was a sharp intake of breath next to him as they walked through the threshold. Steve supposed the house…wasn’t the cleanest. In actuality the house hadn’t been truly clean since Peggy died. Steve hated being the kind of guy who didn’t pick up after himself and left it all to his wife like they were living in the forties or something, but work was so ridiculously taxing and raising two kids wasn’t a walk in the park either. Somehow he had just let the house go.

The two story house was overgrown, weeds in the gutter and the lawn area up to their calves in grass. There was even a little moss on the windows, though Steve had been fighting that fight for a while. The paint on the wood panelling was peeling and the singles on the roof needed to be replaced but that just wasn’t in the budget right now. Steve inherited this land from some relative and it was the perfect location for him and Peggy to start a new life. Only a little more than a decade ago they had lured Bucky away from Brooklyn to live in this small town on the edge of the ocean and together they had built this little paradise. They had gone the whole nine yards, a white picket fence surrounded the habitable part of the land, even though the deed stretched five acres but that was mostly forest. Peggy made herself a vegetable garden and Steve built a shed for her to put all her tools. Bucky lived with them for a little bit, being there when Peggy gave birth to Peter before he met and fell in love with the scariest woman Steve had ever met and they left to start their own version of the American dream. 

The interior opened up to an open living room with bookshelves lining the walls, a couch strategically separating the television from the dining area which connected to the kitchen if you moved further in the house. The kitchen was built more than a decade ago and had an extra-large sink to do all the dishes in. Dishes was the one chore the boys had to do and it was only the knowledge that they wouldn’t have to do that particular chore anymore that got Peter to agree with the charade. Harley was all for it but that kid…liked messing with people. From the kitchen there was another door leading out to the wraparound porch and from there out to the forest that surrounds the property. The stairs in the middle of the bottom floor led upstairs to the boy’s bedroom and the master bedroom. There was one tiny bathroom up there but the real bathroom with the shower/bath combo was downstairs and shared between them.

They’d built the house small, thinking a big house would be too much to clean even though they wanted kids. Little did they know. Tony seemed to actively shrink on himself at the sight of the mess. Clothes were strewn across the couch, blankets and dishes on the floor stacked in corners. There was an open board game that had been abandoned and knick-knacks and toys haphazardly flown about. From the entrance Steve could sort of see the pot they’d used for canned soup a few days ago still sitting on the stove and the napkins and utensils piled high in the sink. Dog hair and dust and food stains and a few other unmentionables made for a pretty intimidating sight. And speaking of dog hair…

The thunderous sound of multiple paws getting closer towards them drew Tony’s attention to the stairs where he promptly shrieked and hid behind Steve. The bernese mountain dog and Labrador duo made a beeline for the amnesia patient and Tony threw himself to the side, trying to escape the adorable assault. Unfortunately he tripped over a pair of boots and came crashing down, leaving him vulnerable to the sniffing and licking that comes with being a dog. Tony squealed and tried very hard to shield his face but his boys were persistent little guys and wouldn’t stop until there was a respectable sheen of dog slober on their vicim.

“Steve!” Came a cry from the bottom of the dog pile. “Help me!”

Taking pity on the genuinely distressed man Steve took hold of their collars and heaved the two cute little monsters off their captive. Tony coughed and anxiously wiped the slobber off on his clothes. Steve rolled his eyes at the melodrama but was occupied by the fur in his arms.

“Hey! Hey guys get off come on dinner isn’t for awhile calm down guys.”

Completely opposite to Tony’s pleas the dogs quickly stopped jumping around and settled down to sit nicely at his feet, though their tails never stopped moving excitedly. Tony had retreated to the couch for cover and peered over the back with narrowed eyes. Steve tried to hide a smile. 

“This guy,” Steve said patting the shaggy brown and white dog, “is Buford.”

Tony curled his lip but didn’t say anything. Steve finally gave in and grinned brightly.

“And this little guy,” Steve said as he squished the blond dogs face, “is Buster.”

Tony harrumphed and muttered under his breath something disparaging about the “little” comment.

“Honey…” Steve said with just a hint of patronization in his voice.

Tony roughly turned away from Steve’s ‘concerned’ stare and crossed his arms to pout properly. 

Steve rolled his eyes at the display before schooling his features into something a concerned husband would have.

“Well,” he said slowly, “if you don’t remember these boys maybe you’ll have better luck with boys that mater just a smidge more than the dogs.”

“Dad!” came dual cries from upstairs and then the thudding feet running down the stairs. Tony startled upwards and fixed his eyes on the stairs with growing horror.

“I have children?” he whispered.

Peter and Harley came barreling down the stairs at break-neck speeds and slammed into Steve, who had opened his arms just in time to catch the two kids. They squeezed tight before Harley broke off and went straight to Tony. The man’s eyes widened, he rose from the couch to take a few steps back in retreat before Harley ran right into the arms Tony had risen to ward him off. Harley wrapped his little arms around his waist and held on tight, even when Tony refused to hug back. 

Peter grinned just a bit at Steve’s side but didn’t rush over. He didn’t exactly fully support the tricking, but valued a chore-less evening after school more. Peter really was the sweetest kid. Harley…not so much.

“We missed you so much Dad!” Cried Harley from his position wrapped around Tony. “I was so scared!”

Hilariously, Harley seemed to squeeze out a few tears and pulled away just to make sure Tony could watch as he snuffled softly and wiped at his face. Tony paled, shuffling awkwardly at the display and sending a hopeless look towards Steve. Steve clutched at his chest dramatically as if moved by the display.

“Now Harley, you know we talked about your father’s memory loss.”

Harley sniffed and nodded, and walked back to Steve to give him another hug. Steve ruffled his hair fondly. 

“You kids finish your homework?”

Groans came from his sons.

“Enough of that. I don’t want to deal with another call from your teacher.” Steve bent low to mock whisper in his son’s ear. “And I think your dad needs some time, you know?”

The boys gave solemn nods and marched towards the stairs with just cursory smiles and waves at Tony.

“And who knows,” Steve called after them, “maybe you’ll have one of your father’s famous home-cooked meals for dinner.”

***

Tony was an awful cook.

The doctors had told him that getting back into his old routine would be the best thing for his memory loss but so far none of this was familiar to Tony. He didn’t remember the house, he didn’t remember the dogs, and he didn’t remember his fucking kids. He didn’t remember his _husband_ for chrissakes. 

Tony ran his hand through his hair as he riffled through the drawer that Steve had called ‘his’. All of this shit that he hesitates to call clothes were dull, muted, and a few sizes too big. Steve had said he used to be ‘bigger’ which was a goddamn lie. Tony didn’t know who he was but he most certainly knew he’s the type to watch his figure. He thinks. Maybe.

Tony sighed and relaxed into the mattress of the master bedroom. Steve was putting the –ugh- kids to bed, trying to give Tony a moment alone after his spectacular failure that evening. Tony had tried to make some kind of chicken thing with Steve worriedly hovering in the doorway. The pressure had been on but there was no muscle memory at all. No recipe to help him along and no goddamn help from his loving husband who when asked, promptly dropped an entire cut of chicken on the ground and spilled rosemary all over the kitchen floor. Steve had sheepishly rubbed his head and cleaned up the spilled spices but was banned from the kitchen all the same. At least Tony didn’t waste the food, but he was so worried about properly cooking the chicken that he’d burned it just a bit. Blackened chicken was a thing wasn’t it? Yeah, so it wasn’t that bad. The veggies had been a little mushy even though they were from frozen but he didn’t burn them at least. He followed the directions exactly so if they tasted funny then it wasn’t his fault. 

Steve (his fucking spouse what the hell) shuffled into the bedroom, muffling a yawn on the back of his hand. Tony turned on his side, his back to his husband. He heard the rustling of clothes and refused to turn around, even though his husbands’ considerable physique is about the only plus to waking up in this life. Steve crawled into bed and the old springs immediately dipped at the added weight. Tony fell towards the center of the bed and was shoved right in between a perfect pair of pecs. He reared back, anxiously shuffling back to his side of the bed only to again fall back into his husband.

His heart leapt in his throat. Jesus Christ, what if, well, _something else_ was a part of their usual routine? What if he demanded something of Tony that he wasn’t prepared to give? Steve seemed nice enough but Tony had yet to tell him no. They were already married, could he even say no?

The bed moved again as Steve shifted and Tony’s eyes darted about the room trying to find a weapon. He wasn’t about to let some hick country mountain man assault him in his _own home_ -

“Hey Tony?”

Tony made a sound of acknowledgment in the back of his throat.

“The bed is kinda small when we aren’t, well, uh, spooning.”

_Oh here it comes I’m going to rip out your eye sockets you fucking asshole-_

“Would you be more comfortable on the couch?”

A breath he didn’t realise he was holding released and Tony sat up to nod. A hand was held out to him and without a thought Tony took it, being led from the bedroom down the stairs to the cluttered couch. Steve swept the mess onto the floor before walking over to a linen closet and pulling out blankets and a pillow and setting up a little sleeping area for Tony. Tony climbed in eagerly, exhausted and Steve didn’t liger either. Only wished him good night and went back upstairs.

_That was kind of him._

It would have been kinder if he’d given him the bed though.

Tony sneered at thin air, already more than finished with this day. First, he’d woken up in some low-budget hospital straight out of a horror movie, then he was told to wait until they figured out who he was only for them to drag him into a life that is just inconceivable that he could have been a part of. After that he was forced to cook dinner and now he was sitting on a lumpy couch and calling it a _kindness._ He sniffed only to then realize he was crying. Fuck. Who else in this world had to deal with this? Honestly, sure blah blah there were kids starving in Africa but this was just inhumane. Was this culture shock? How can he be shocked by his own culture? 

What the fuck was his life?


	2. Chapter 2

His chest felt heavy and uncomfortable, his breath coming in shorter than usual. Tony scrunched his face but refused to open his eyes, sleep being too comfortable for him to abandon. Too late though Tony realized just how hot he was, the oppressive heat stifling him and making his already labored breathing more difficult.

Uncomfortable and grumpy, Tony peeked one eye open only to yelp and jump up. Well, try and jump up, but considering there was about two hundred pounds of dog on him he didn’t really go anywhere.

“Buford!”

The dog turned its attention from a struggling Tony to Steve, decked out in running gear and grinning brightly.

“Come here boy! Time for a run.”

The dog woofed happily and used Tony’s stomach as a springboard to get to Steve easiest, the other dog that had apparently been draped across his legs did the same. Tony curled around his gut protectively and focused on calming down, only to realize the room was illuminated by artificial light, and that it was still pitch black outside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at his husband.

Steve looked around innocently. “Taking our dogs for a walk?”

Tony inhaled sharply. _Fuck it._ “At the ass-crack of dawn? Not even the fucking ass crack what fucking time is it and who fucking traumatized you as a child into thinking going for a run before the sun is up is anything less than torture?”

Steve frowned and Tony tensed, but Steve just shook his head. “Morning comes early for most people Tony. Not everyone gets to lay around in bed all day.”

Tony squawked indignantly, scrambling to his feet. “Are you saying I’m lazy? I’m fucking injured you asshole. And didn’t you say I work all day just as much as you do?”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” His charming husband said, pulling out a legal pad from one of the many bookshelves. “I know you don’t remember all your chores so I wrote them down for you. Try to get as much done today as you can.”

Steve passed over the notepad and Tony almost had a stroke. There were _three pages_ front and back with Steve’s barely legible printing scrawled on every line.

“Uh.”

Steve smiled, but it wasn’t the kindest. “You work hard, right Tony? Work all day and I’m sure you’ll remember something.”

Steve pulled on a sweater and took his keys. “I’m going for a run and then right to work, so don’t stay up on my account. I’ll drop the dogs back off in the back yard, let them have a little sun. Make sure you feed them at noon sharp, but don’t worry about the cat.” _We have a cat?_ “Keep checking their water bowls, it’s supposed to be hot today. Oh, and this goes without saying but don’t leave the property. We really don’t want you to wander off and have to pick you up at the hospital again.”

With that he finished with a rueful smile and left.

“Wait!” Tony called after him, rushing to open the door.

Steve visibly sighed and crossed his arms waiting for Tony to talk.

“When can I leave? I mean, not that I’m asking for permission that would be ridiculous but I’m not going to stay here forever am I? I mean, there’s a whole town and we know people right? We have friends and stores we go to and some kind of amusements. Maybe a bowling alley? A theatre? I mean, I know there’s a beach somewhere because, duh, lost at sea so maybe we could go there? Or maybe there-“

“Tony.”

Tony stopped and waited.

Steve’s eyebrows pulled together and he squinted at Tony in the mild light that was the beginning of dawn.

“We’ll go into town this weekend. I’ll show you all the stuff.” Steve paused. “You’re not trapped here.” He said with a very strange tone entering his words. “It’s just safer for now if you wait for me to show you around.”

_Safer from what?_

Tony pressed his lips together and nodded. The moment hung in the air as they both stared at each other. _Come on Tony make an effort._

“Have a good day at work.” He said with a little wave.

Steve looked taken aback. He paused, gave his head a little shake before he turned on his heel and booking it faster than Tony had ever seen anyone run.

Well, he assumed.

***

Tony retreated back in the house and took a shower, even though the warmth of his couch cocoon beckoned him. Apparently he had quite a bit of pride and didn’t want to be upstaged by his early bird husband. Who knew? The water took a while to get warm but it got there and though Tony was certain that cleaning the tub was on his special list of things to do, it was passable and he felt just a bit better when he was clean. 

He went back to the master bedroom to change into the ill-fitting clothes only to be greeted by an unfamiliar and slightly eerie sight when he came back downstairs. At the dining table two children –ugh- his children sat nicely with folded hands and straight backs. The table was clean, wiping the table being the easiest thing he was forced to do the day before. The dishes were another thing, a thing so daunting in fact Tony had just filled the sink and left it ‘to soak’ Steve had said so it would be easy to do in the next day. Unfortunately the next day was here and Tony really didn’t want to fucking do it.

“Dad?”

Tony jumped and focused on the boys –ugh _his boys_ \- in front of him. “Yes?”

The two boys fixed him with wide doe-eyes and pouted in a dual expression of innocence. “Aren’t you going to make us breakfast?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at the kids but made his way into the kitchen anyways. The fridge was loosely stocked, only some produce and a carton of milk. There were a few condiments that one would find at a fast food joint but nothing really helpful for cooking a meal. Tony sighed and pulled out the milk carton, plopping it in front of the two pouting boys before going to find utensils and whatever cereal these people seemed to live off of. The boys deflated somewhat at the meal but Tony didn’t really know what they expected. How was he supposed to make anything without ingredients? Better question; _how was he supposed to make anything without any memory on how to cook?_

Tony sat at the other end of the table from the boys and grabbed his own brand flakes without making conversation. The boys quickly immersed themselves in a debate of some sorts about whatever kids were up to these days and Tony tuned them out, choosing instead to glance around the room again. The mess…the mess was _horrible._ It would take a miracle to get it all cleaned up and Tony didn’t even know where anything went. Well, supposedly the dishes should be washed and the clothes thrown in the laundry but-

Dread pooled in his stomach. Tony hadn’t seen a laundry machine on his little tour chez Rogers last night.

_If I have to handwash all these clothes I’m getting a divorce._

The dread was quickly chased away with a sharp spike of relief. Divorce. He could get divorced. Steve had explained that both his parents had died in an accident so it wasn’t like he could stay with them, but they had to have some friends who could understand their situation. If he needed to he could just file for divorce. Simple. Easy. Of course, then he wouldn’t know who he was. It could be worth it to stick around and do whatever Steve says is normal on the chance that it fixes his condition. That is what the doctors said after all. But-

Inadvertently Tony let out a little whine, surveying the mess once again. It might be worth it to go through the entire process of divorce if only he didn’t have to touch that mess.

A horn blared twice from outside and both boys jumped up, leaving half-finished bowls of cereal in their wake. 

“Bye dad! Make something good for dinner alright?”

Tony’s mouth twisted at the goodbye from the shorter boy. Harold? Harvey? But surprisingly the older one-twelve? Thirteen?- ran back over to the breakfast table and put a hand on his arm. 

“Bye dad. You’re doing a great job.”

The boy- _Peter_ gave him a little kiss on the cheek before tearing off after his brother to catch, what Tony assumed, was the school bus. Tony flushed with some sort of weird emotion and touched his cheek, before scrubbing the spot with his sleeve.

_Alright._ Tony thought, suddenly full of energy. _Cleaning this mess is apparently something I did every day so I might as well start doing it._

***

Tony was really glad Steve didn’t assign times to each task because he spent almost three hours just doing the dishes.

First he had to drain the dirty water from the sink but when he stuck his hand in he was unprepared for the slimy film that had grown over the top, wrenching his hand out and quickly running it under water to get rid of the feeling. He had found some rubber gloves but quickly found that they were too short, only going up to his elbows while the sink was the size of a small tub. Eventually he had admitted defeat and just stuck his hand right into the water, ignoring the _disgusting_ feeling and pulled the plug. The water drained and he rinsed out the residue along the sides of the sink the best he could before filling her back up with warm water right to the top. By that time half an hour had passed and not a single dish had been washed. Then he spent a few minutes looking for the soap, pouring it in only to frown at the lack of bubbles. You needed bubbles right? Experimentally, Tony swished his hands through the water only to realize it was boiling hot and yank his hand back quickly. He glared at the sink, but triumphantly saw some suds sprout along the edges. 

Eventually the dishes got washed. Though there was water all along the outside of his shirt, the countertop, and the floor, _they got washed_. Then he went on a scavenger hunt through the den, picking up the many cups and bowls and plates scattered about while trying not to faint at the smell. Those he just rinsed off as well as he could and then left them in the water to soak. See? He was learning. Except there didn’t seem to be any surge of memory which kind of defeated the point of working.

It was only eleven o’clock.

Tony groaned before giving himself a few slaps to the face. He could do this and even if he got his memory back he’d be doing the same stuff anyways.

Next he moved on to the giant mess that had taken over the majority of the house. Still not having an answer for the washing machine, Tony just piled the laundry high in the hamper he’d seen in the hallway upstairs, and when that wasn’t enough just created a pile in the corner. He put all the blankets and cushions in a separate pile to be washed. By that time it was time to feed the wild animals Steve calls pets and wasn’t that a little slice of hell? Two cans of dog food Steve had pointed out last night which smelled absolutely disgusting were opened and taken out the back porch to feed the two mongrels. They must have smelled the food because they were already there, barking excitedly and jumping all over him trying to get to the cans. It was honestly terrifying being basically mauled by animals that massive but who was Tony going to complain to?

He left the dogs to their meal and skittered back inside the house, decisively locking the door and being just a bit grateful to be staring down the chaos of children’s toys instead of the domesticated version of the big bad wolf. He cleared himself a spot in the rubble and got to work.

***

Tony had only done _two_ things on Steve’s list by the time his truck pulled into the dirt driveway, and both of those two things still had more work to be done. But honestly? Tony was beyond exhausted and could give a shit. Every muscle ached and he was covered in dust and dirt and dog hair. And Steve’s helpful little list said he did this every day? Nope. No. Not true. There was no possible way he dealt with this every day because this was _hell._

Footsteps approached and Tony felt a little thrill of anticipation. Yes he hated every minute of this day but there was a very noticeable dent in the mess that was this house and he couldn’t wait for Steve’s reaction. Unfortunately the prick that was his husband didn’t even glance at his surroundings, only greeting him briefly and saying he was going upstairs for a nap. Tony clenched his teeth at the lack of recognition before getting even more upset when he realized Steve had tracked dirty footsteps all over the house when he disappeared to his room. _Their room._ Just because he wasn’t sleeping in it doesn’t mean that room wasn’t also his. This was his life apparently and he was going to hold on with both hands.

***  
Days past like the ones before it. He got up, fed his kids a disappointing breakfast, cleaned as much as he could, got ignored by Steve, made something for dinner, cleaned up, and went to bed. It was…fucking annoying is what is was. It was taxing in ways he didn’t ever think it would be. He knew he wouldn’t like doing all the chores but how difficult could it be? It was just housework. There were people calculating trips to Mars so how hard could it be to prepare food? Tony admits there was some…disregard for manual labour. Some instinctual condescension for typical everyday tasks. He didn’t really know where those feelings came from but they were quickly beaten down the third time he found a half-eaten granola bar shoved between the couch cushions. The work was beyond exhausting, pushing him to and past his limits. Ridiculously, Tony felt himself get, well, upset. It was stupid he knew, it was stupid to have to breathe deeply so he wouldn’t break something when he stubbed his toe on the same goddamn end table for the fifth time. It was stupid to feel so giddy when he finally caught up to all the dishes and had all of them nicely put away. And it was so goddamn stupid that having the trash bag rip when he took it outside could almost reduce him to tears. It was just all so fucking _stupid._

Dinner that night was some frozen casserole he only had to heat up which Tony thought was a disgrace but the kids loved so it was fine. The household dispersed after the food was done and Tony stood there alone in the kitchen, suddenly feeling just a bit lost as he made a realisation. 

It didn’t seem like his family wanted him around. 

They all went off and did their own thing before and after dinner and didn’t really invite Tony along. Did they expect him to invite himself? But he doesn’t know if he’s welcome or if he’s intruding and he doesn’t really want to upset them. Well, untrue. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass if he upsets Steve, that guy was on his shit list which was probably a bad thing considering at some point he’d agreed to marry him. But he did actually kind of want to get to know his kids. Okay, admittedly he had a bias towards Peter but it wasn’t his fault! Peter was incredibly kind to him. They were all polite to different degrees but Peter seemed to genuinely care for his feelings. The kid was only, well, he had yet to get a straight answer on that but the kid was young and seemed to actually care. He supposes he shouldn’t be so surprised, he was the kids’ dad after all, but it was still strange for some reason. Like caring was a foreign feeling. 

Tony shook himself and decided to search the house in his free time for any cleaning products lying around. The time spent between when Steve got home and when he left for work was declared unofficially to be a time of rest, but Tony wanted to get a head start on the next day anyways. He had finally gotten an answer about the washing machine and apparently they had some sort of machine only it was out in the shed, and there was no dryer so all the clothes needed to be hung up. Tony didn’t really want to move on to another chore considering he was finally so close to getting the front room cleaned but the laundry was piled as high as he is tall and it needed to get done. His kids may have no problem wearing dirty clothes but it was a problem for Tony. Though he wouldn’t be doing the laundry tomorrow. Tomorrow was Saturday.

A shiver of excitement went through him and Tony decided to abandon his treasure trove of generic brand chemicals to seek out Steve. 

“Steve?” He called as he entered the room. His husband was reclined in a lazy-boy idly doodling in a notebook. 

“Yes?”

Tony squinted and wrung his hands. They’d gotten so dry in the last couple of days at the amount of washing he’s done, and Tony really didn’t like the hand cream they had just lying around.

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and finally looked away from his doodle. “Yeah?”

Tony bit his lip. “You said we would go out.”

Immediately the two children that were sprawled on the floor doing homework wolf-whistled, giving the adults significant looks. Tony scrunched his nose at the implication but said nothing. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I guess.” He shrugged.

Tony pursed his lips at the dismissive tone but straightened his back anyways. He made to go back and keep reading his little stash but a small hand gripping his pant leg stopped him.

“Dad?” Peter said. “You can stay here if you want.”

“I-” Tony paused. “Sure, Peter.”

Tony looked around uncomfortably for a place to sit but Peter just took hold of his pant leg and pulled. Tony caught the hint and sat cross legged next to the two kids. Harley was absorbed in his studies, not even flinching when Tony plonked down beside him. Peter shot him an encouraging smile before he went back to his work, sitting right next to Tony completely at ease. They sat in silence, Tony feeling just a bit awkward with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, but ultimately feeling much better than when he was doing chores.

“Hey dad?” Peter asked, drawing his attention. “Can you help me with this?”

Peter gestured to his homework while he worked the pencil between his teeth. It was mathematics, and it was much too advanced for the grade Peter should be in.

“Why are you doing this kind of math? You’re only, uh, young.”

Harley snickered at his slip but surprisingly Steve piped up from across the room to answer. “Peter takes advanced courses. We’re trying to get Harley to do the same but the teachers don’t really think he would put the effort in.” he said shooting a mock glare at the younger kid before it softened into pride. “They are both a couple of geniuses. I can’t even understand their homework half the time.”

For some reason Tony felt a swell of pride himself. His kids were _smart._

“So what do you need help with?”

Peter passed over the booklet and pointed out the equation. 

Tony took one look at it and knew the answer.

He snatched up the pencil and quickly wrote down the math needed to find the answer and then the answer itself, elated beyond belief that he discovered this skill. He took a look at the rest of the equations and with delight noted that he knew the answers to those as well.

“Oh my god.” He breathed. “I can do math.”

Numbers and rules and information pounded in his head and he shot up and ran to get the legal pad and a pen. Without bothering to think he wrote down every single mathematical formula he could conjure from his memory as fast as he could, somehow afraid he would lose the information as quickly as he got it. He was on his third page of messy symbols when he collapsed into giggles.

“Peter!” Tony yelled. “I think I know where you boys got your smarts from.”

The two boys crowded around him, tearing off pages of the legal pad to pass around and inspect. 

“This is so cool!”

“I don’t think this is even high school stuff anymore.”

“Dude, this is so _cool!_ ”

Tony grinned fiercely at the two boys, proud to actually seeming to have a skill. He looked up to join Steve in on the, well, stroking of his ego only to see a pained expression on the man’s face.

“You were always smart, Honey”

Tony’s smile slowly faded. Steve wasn’t proud of him. He really didn’t know what he expected from the man, he had proven himself to not value Tony’s work in the last couple of days. But it hurt for some reason. _I didn’t marry very well, did I?”_

A rough knock on the door interrupted the chattering boys.

“Come in! It’s open.”

Tony shot Steve a look of alarm. You didn’t just invite strangers into your home. But the muscled man with a prosthetic arm made a bee-line for Steve when he was through the door to give his husband some friendly pats on the back. The two men exchanged pleasantries and Tony relaxed, though he was going to ask Steve later if he was expecting the man or if he had just risked their lives because he was too lazy to get up to open the door. Tony snorted to himself at the thought. Just eying Steve’s abs he’s sure the one adjective you can’t assign to the man was _lazy._

“Hey Tony!” said the newcomer. “It’s great to see you up and walking around again.”

Tony smiled. “Um, thank you, Mr?”

The man waved the title off. “It’s Bucky to you mister. I gotta tell you, life was a lot harder without you here Tony.”

Tony perked up at that. “Really?”

Bucky nodded. “Oh yeah definitely. And, wow, I hate to ask this of you,” he said as he sat down on the couch next to Steve, taking off his shoes, “but could I have one of your famous foot massages? I had a really long day at work today and your massages are _legendary_ Tony! I know you don’t remember but they’re just about the only thing I have to look forward to at the end of the day.”

Bucky kicked up his heels on the coffee table and grinned down. “So? What do ya say? I know I’m not the guy you usually give them to,” he said elbowing Steve next to him, “but could you help an old pal out?”

Tony startled, looking around anxiously for the others reaction to the strange request. The boys were back to chattering away above the legal pad while Steve had an unreadable expression on his face. Tony struggled not to turn his nose up in disgust but considering all he’s done in the last couple days, touching this man’s feet wasn’t the worst.

“I-I suppose.”

Bucky grinned brightly at him, wiggling his toes where they rested on the coffee table. Tony shuffled over to his knees in front of the man, hesitantly grabbing one of his feet between his hands and squeezing.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” Bucky groaned, relaxing further into the couch. “Steve has been hogging you all to himself. I mean, you do this for him every night.”

Taken aback, Tony stared at Steve. 

“I was giving him a break. Seemed like it was the best thing to do for an _injured person_.”

Steve shot a glare at his friend but Bucky only furrowed his eyebrow. “But I thought the doc said he’s gotta do everything he did before the accident if he wants to remember.”

“I did this?” Tony interrupted, gesturing down to his hands where they moved on Bucky’s feet. “Every night?”

Bucky nodded sagely. “Every night you would get Steve a beer and a foot massage. It was a ritual with you guys, though let me tell you before the kids came into your lives you had a very different ritual oh boy.”

“Bucky.” Steve warned.

But too late, the image of Tony on his knees for an entirely different reason entered his mind and he flushed scarlet.

“Ahem.” Tony coughed, beyond embarrassed at his reaction. “So a foot massage and a beer? Every night? Doesn’t that seem…excessive?”

Bucky grinned and switched out his feet. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Oh but I remember Steve would feel so guilty about the routine that you guys had this huge fight about it until eventually he just gave in and let you do what you want. Honestly the guy is way too head over heels for you, I would never let my wife do this for me.”

Steve pursed his lips at the conversation, his face so incredibly pained that a thought entered Tony’s head. How must it have been for Steve, losing his husband? Tony obviously hasn’t been acting like himself, and it's not like Steve can stay home with him, they needed the money. Was he missing his husband? Was that what the cold attitude was? Just…Steve not knowing how to deal?

Understanding dawned on Tony, as did a certain amount of hope.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking as if he was going to try and run away. 

“Nope.” Tony said, looking right at his husband. “Stay right there.”

Steve looked honestly horrified for just a moment before it was concealed behind a blank stare. Tony rose and made for the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge and passing them out to the two men. Bucky took his eagerly while Steve was much more cautious.

Tony nodded to himself, having his theory confirmed just a bit more. Determined, Tony folded to his knees beside Steve and pulled off his shoes. The man was tense all over it seemed. He didn’t object but he didn’t really respond at all.

“I did this every night.” Tony said as he rubbed the arch of Steve’s foot. “So I will do it every night.”

***

Steve smiled painfully at Tony when he explained he would walk Bucky to his truck. The man had only let out a tiny smile and waved him off. It was only when they were safely far away from the house that Bucky burst out laughing.

“You think this is funny do you?”

Bucky howled and even slapped his knee, the little shit.

“Well, it isn’t funny. Bucky this isn’t funny. This is _fucked._ ”

Bucky calmed at the genuinely distressed tone in his friends voice. “Steve.” He said putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay buddy. Getting a foot massage every night isn’t exactly a hardship.”

Steve glared. “It’s…demeaning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Well you didn’t exactly pick him up to treat him like a prince. In fact, I think that’s the exact opposite reason why you picked him up.”

“There’s a difference between treating someone with the respect they earn and being deliberately cruel.”

“Hmm.” Bucky mock thought, stroking a fake beard in thought. “You mean deliberately cruel like throwing a guy overboard? Taking his money? Ruining his tools?”

Steve shuffled his feet. “The guy doesn’t even remember he did that.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah? Well I do. And I don’t forgive so easy. And you shouldn’t either, Steve.” Bucky shook his head and wrapped Steve in a loose hug. “The worst that will happen is the guy will be embarrassed when he gets his memory back. That’s it Steve. Stop cutting the guy so much slack. Maybe cut yourself a bit of that, eh?”

Steve shook his head disapprovingly but hugged Bucky goodbye anyways.


End file.
